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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22777645">The Man With the Green Umbrella</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones'>JantoJones</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Further Brief Briefings [49]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 15:13:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>545</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22777645</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Further Brief Briefings [49]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/788124</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Man With the Green Umbrella</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The rain was so heavy it was bouncing back up from the pavement.  Napoleon Solo was absolutely drenched, but he seemed not to notice.  Anyone who cared to take notice would have seen a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders.  Even the fact that his hand-stitched Italian loafers were ruined seemed to be of little consequence to him.  It was a sure sign of more important worries.</p><p>Illya was two days late coming back from an assignment and no-one could establish contact with him.  The assignment had been in New York City so, being so close to home, made it more of a concern.  </p><p>Napoleon was trying not to show that he was overly troubled; for two reasons.  Firstly, it wasn’t the first time, and Illya was exceptionally adept at survival.  Secondly, Mr Waverly was growing increasingly unhappy about the strength of their friendship.  The Old Man acknowledged that partners needed to be close, but often had to warn them that the assignment should always come first.  Solo and Kuryakin had, on occasion, almost jeopardised assignments by putting their friendship first.  The only reason he hadn’t split them up was that they had still been victorious on those occasions.</p><p>Glancing at his watch, Napoleon realised he was due at a meeting with Mr Waverly within the hour.  He would have to head back to HQ quickly if he was to have time to change beforehand.  As he turned to cross the street, Napoleon was nearly knocked to the ground by someone carrying a large, green umbrella.  He couldn’t see who was under it, but they were holding as low as they could.  It was hardly surprising they couldn’t see where they were going.  </p><p>Napoleon opened his mouth to shout at the figure but there was something about him which stopped the yell before it began.  The umbrella carrier was dressed entirely in black, which made the green of the umbrella seem somewhat incongruous.  There was also something about the man himself.   Despite the raincoat he was wearing, he seemed to be slighter than average men, but certainly couldn’t be mistaken for a woman.  However, it was his gait which really rang the bells of recognition for Napoleon.</p><p>“Illya?!” he called out.</p><p>The umbrella carrier turned to face him, and a broad grin spread across the faces of both men.</p><p>“You’re late,” Napoleon stated matter-of-factly, after patting Illya’s shoulder in greeting.  “Where were you?  No calls, no letters...”</p><p>Illya held his hand up to stop his partner going into his tried and tested ‘worried father’ routine.</p><p>“I lost my communicator,” he replied.</p><p>He explained that he had been held prisoner and hadn’t had time to retrieve his equipment when he escaped. “It was that or the information I went in for.”</p><p>“And the umbrella?”</p><p>“I was given it by an elderly lady who insisted I take it.”</p><p>That didn’t surprise Napoleon at all.  For reason he couldn’t fathom, Illya brought out the grand-mothering instinct in some older women.  He was slightly miffed that he was soaked to the skin but no-one had offered him an umbrella.</p><p>“Come on, Tovarisch.  Let’s get back to the office before your cold starts.”</p><p>“I do not always catch a cold,” Illya protested, just before he sneezed.</p>
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